What Princess Leia Could Have Done
by JSMac
Summary: Darth Vader knows the rebels have the Death Star plans, and he wants them back badly. Here's what Princess Leia could have done to avoid capture when Darth Vader confronts her on her ship. Rated K plus for mild language.


What Princess Leia Could Have Done

"I want the plans, and I want the plans now! I know you have the Death Star plans, you little brat!" Darth Vader yelled at the obstinate princess.

Leia put her hands on her hips. "Nope. I don't know what you're talking about. You'll simply have to admit you made a mistake. No plans here! Bye!"

Darth Vader was growing increasingly angry. "Come back here, girl! You have no right to talk to your father, um, I mean, evil sith lord that way!"

Leia stopped and slowly turned around. Her face had a look of utter shock. "You're my father?" she asked slowly.

"No, I didn't mean to say that, I'm not your father. I just got my words a little mixed up, that's all." He let a nervous laugh escape him, but luckily his helmet made it sound like a deep, evil guffaw. He loved how his helmet automatically made him sound like a black, British badass one hundred percent of the time. Leia's face got that annoying pouty look again. Darth Vader grimaced under his helmet. That was a close one.

"So, anyway, the plans?" Darth Vader continued.

"Nope, not gonna give them to you," she said.

"Ha! I made you admit that you have the plans."

"I just got my words a little mixed up, that's all."

"You can't try my own excuse on me. Oops, what did I just say?"

"So you are my father!"

"Well, um, about the plans—"

"Don't try and change the subject. Are you my father or not?"

"No, no, this is going all wrong. I was planning on telling your brother, but I never wanted you to know."

"I have a brother?"

"The plans, okay? I just came here for the plans!"

"You're not going to get your plans unless I get my answers!"

There was a long silence. Darth Vader knew what had to come next, but he didn't like it. Always the stupid, bulgy eyed look on their face. Always the futilely clawing hands on their neck. Always the idiotic grunting sounds. It made him mad.

"Then I guess neither of us get what we want," Darth Vader said as he lifted her in a force choke. He watched her gasp and struggle for a while, thinking resentfully of how she looked like an idiot.

"Wait!" she cried. So maybe he would get his Death Star plans after all. He let the princess go. "I can email the plans to you! I just have to fetch my laptop from my room!"

"Good," he said. "Now don't try and run off, thinking that I'll just stand here and trust you. Maybe I better walk up with you."

She nodded. "I'm glad we could come up with a diplomatic agreement. Here's the catch, though." He sighed. There was always a catch. He held his breath, hoping the catch wouldn't have anything to do with her questions. Unfortunately for him, the breath holding was quite obvious, thanks to his helmet. The helmet of badassity had its downsides, too. "You'll have to let me escape." He let his breath go.

"It's a deal," he heaved.

"Oh, and by the way," she added, "the elevators are broken so we'll have to take the stairs.

Darth Vader hated stairs, but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of him getting his plans from the rebels. He tried to look on the bright side. At least this wasn't like the one time all the elevators on the Death Star broke down. That sucked.

Pretty soon, they stepped into the princess's royal suite. Darth Vader was quite jealous. She got this fancy room with a big screen TV, a king size bed, and a soda machine. All he got was a crappy white room with a swirly chair. Maybe he should leave the Empire and join the rebels. "Hold on while I get my laptop booted up," she said. He nodded in agreement while he continued to gaze around the room. There was even a karaoke machine in the corner. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad letting Leia go, as long as he got this room to himself.

"All right, what's your email," she asked.

"skydude749901235546 "

"Could you repeat the numbers?"

"749901235546."

"Slower?"

"7. . .4. . .9. . .9. . .0. . .1. . .2. . .3. . .5. . .5. . .4. . .6."

"Thanks. Why skydude?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"I don't."

"Okay, I'm sending the plans now. All done!" She grabbed her laptop and darted out of the room. She was sure anxious to get in a sketchy, cramped escape pod and land in the middle of a barren desert with no civilization for miles.

Darth Vader chuckled to himself as he took his laptop out, concealed conveniently in his chest plate under all the fancy buttons. He flopped on the giant bed and hummed his theme song to himself as he opened his email. There it was. The email from Leia. She couldn't have copied the plans and sent them in the memory banks of droids to the surface of Tatooine. That was impossible. The only existing copy was on his computer. He opened the email and looked confusedly at it. "An internet link?" He shrugged and clicked on it.

The music started to play. It was music he didn't like. If the exterior of Darth Vader's helmet was at all capable of conveying emotion, it had a look of pure horror. In a rage, he stood up off the bed, took a couple of electronic, wheezing breaths, and screamed, "NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" As if to make sure it was real and not some crazy vision, he looked back at the screen. Sure enough, the words of doom were spelled out across it.

"You just got Rick Rolled."


End file.
